A Dog's Chance
by Sita Z
Summary: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of an ill fortune must be in want of a swimming pool. Well, at least if he’s Malcolm Reed.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, not making any money.

AN: This story is for volley, a little thank-you for a big favor she did for me. It officially takes place after Season 4, but there isn't a lot of reference to the canon story arc and very little angst.

Betaed by Gabi – thank you!

Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 1

Ever since he was a child, Malcolm Reed valued a predictable existence, and so it was perhaps no wonder that most of the trauma in his life resulted from unpredictable people springing bad news on him.

When he was six years old, his father told him that he'd enrolled him in a weekend swimming class. That had been on Wednesday, and at six years old Malcolm hadn't yet developed a habit of worrying about things that would happen at some distant point in the future. In fact, he hadn't worried about it until Saturday morning when he found himself standing at the edge of a very large and scary pool, with a smiling instructor who told him that half the fun was jumping right in. That had been bad news, all right.

Just like the boat trip when he was twelve. Fishing with his father, watching the sunset, a nice day out, just the two of them. They did all that, too, and Malcolm tried very hard to pretend that they were on a snowmobile, or perhaps a space shuttle. It didn't work so well. Water was generally hard to ignore, especially up close.

At fourteen it had been his English Lit teacher, who gave him a love sonnet to learn and recite the next lesson, because he had "such a nice voice". The next day his allergies had been really bad, and he'd stood in front of the class sneezing and coughing his way through undying declarations of love, putting himself at a zero on the cool scale (where his ratings hadn't been stellar to begin with). And Jamie Hall had been watching, too. Bad news, all in all.

Another unwelcome surprise had come when he'd received his schedule at Starfleet Training Camp and discovered that swimming was a compulsory exercise for Security trainees. He'd somehow survived the lessons, even gotten a passable grade. It had been bad news, though.

Strange, how often these incidents seemed to involve swimming pools. He knew, of course, that pools – all large bodies of water for that matter – were bad news, but it did seem to be a recurring pattern in his life. Whenever he was relaxed and fairly unsuspecting, the universe decided that it was time for another swimming pool in Malcolm Reed's life. Or lake. Or river. Or... well, sometimes it seemed content just to throw a puddle of rain his way. But there would be water, and there would be a lot of it. That was just how it was.

He'd thought that it might be different once he was out in space. Not much water out there, and if there was, it usually appeared in a consistency that didn't bother him. Like ice, for example. He didn't mind ice. He'd been happy enough to join the away team that went to the ice comet; hell, he'd even built a snowman. They hadn't visited many water planets, thank God, and the only water he encountered on Enterprise either came out of his shower or out of the drinks dispenser. He'd assumed that he was safe enough out here.

That, of course, had been his mistake.

* * *

"Hey Malcolm, wait up!"

Malcolm turned around. There was Trip, grinning like a happy hamster and struggling with two heavy bags and a backpack which he tried to keep from slipping down his shoulder. He'd acquired a deep tan over the last fortnight, and was wearing one of his Hawaiian prints to go with the holiday look; snorkelers and coral reefs, if Malcolm wasn't completely mistaken. The shirt's bright colors clashed rather dramatically with its owner's sunburnt nose. All in all, he looked like Trip Tucker usually did after two weeks of home leave.

"You need help with these?" Malcolm asked, nodding at the bags. He himself only had a small duffel which he carried over his shoulder.

"Sure, thanks." Trip handed him the smaller of the two bags, and Malcolm, who hadn't expected it to be quite so heavy, nearly lost his grip on the handle.

"What's in there, your brick collection?"

"Just some tools I picked up," Trip said rather mysteriously, and Malcolm decided not to press the subject.

"Did you have a good time?" he asked instead, although he knew the answer. Trip always had a good time; it was his default condition on shore leave.

"Yeah," Trip smiled. "My brother's got this new boat..."

He launched into a detailed description of a day out on the lake, and Malcolm thought that it sounded quite pleasant. Boats and lakes were fine, as long as it was someone else using them.

They walked rather slowly because of the heavy bags, and it took them almost ten minutes until they'd arrived at Trip's quarters. By the time, Trip was describing his niece's performance as Maid Marian in her school's drama group, and Malcolm changed his earlier assessment. Trip hadn't only had a good time, he'd had a great time. Considering the events of the past few months, Malcolm was glad to see the Chief Engineer in such good spirits.

"So how was your conference?" Trip asked, and his backpack slid down again as he reached for the button to open his door.

"It was very interesting," Malcolm replied, catching the backpack and hoisting it back onto Trip's shoulder. "Commander Donaldson presented a new kind of phase-modulated weapon, which made quite a splash at R&D. He asked me if I'd like to have a look at the schematics some time."

"That's great, Mal!" Trip seemed honestly pleased by the news, and Malcolm allowed himself a proud smile. Being invited to contribute to Donaldon's project _was_ quite an honor, and he'd been thrilled by the Commander's request.

"Have you told the Cap'n yet?"

"Yes, I informed him that I'll do the research in my spare time so it won't interfere with my duties aboard."

Trip shook his head dismissively. "I don't think he'd see it as a problem."

Archer hadn't; in fact, he'd congratulated Malcolm and asked if he could have a look at the schematics himself. Malcolm had been embarrassed by the overt praise, and secretly pleased at the same time. All in all, it was turning out to be a rather good day; a rather good week, in fact.

In retrospect, he should've expected trouble to hit home. Except that he hadn't. He never did.

Trip began to take clothes out of his bags and stack them in a rather sloppy heap on his bed. "Seems like we're gonna stay in dry dock for another week or two, anyway."

Something about his tone told Malcolm that Trip had more news to share than the great time he'd spent with his family, and that all this time he'd been bursting to bring it up.

"Oh?" he asked.

Trip turned around and smiled, holding something up for Malcolm to inspect. It took him a moment to recognize what it was: two pairs of swimming trunks, as garishly printed as Trip's collection of shirts.

"Which one do you like better, the pineapples or the submarines?"

"Which one do I like?" Malcolm repeated cautiously. "Are they for me?"

Trip nodded. "I figured you might not have any, and you're gonna need them."

"Need them?" Malcolm realized that he sounded stupid, repeating Trip's words like that, but he couldn't for the life of him see where this was going. Except that he didn't like it one bit.

"Yeah." Trip smiled, as happy as Malcolm had seen him in a long time. "The Cap'n's been keeping it a secret for the last few months. He didn't want anyone to be disappointed if Command refused his request."

"What request?" But by then he already knew, of course. It was surprising, actually, that it should have taken the universe that long.

"To have a swimming pool installed. They're just now bringing the equipment aboard."

TBC...

Poor Malcolm, he doesn't get a break, does he? Please leave a review and let me know what you think of this so far!


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thank you for your comments! On to the next part of Malcolm's water adventures...

* * *

Chapter 2

The swimming pool immediately became the main topic of conversation aboard. Malcolm wanted no part of it – he wanted to pretend for as long as he possibly could that there were no construction workers building a wet pit of doom in Cargo Bay 2, and that even if there were, it had nothing to do with him. But it turned out to be a nearly impossible subject to avoid. Trip prattled on about nothing else, and kept trying to persuade Malcolm to "come down and have a look". Hoshi and Travis spent their mealtimes planning pool parties, and even the Captain seemed excited whenever he mentioned the latest addition to Enterprise's leisure facilities. Which was quite often. Malcolm tried to spend as much time in the Armory as possible.

The only one who didn't seem too keen on the pool either was T'Pol, and Malcolm felt an unfamiliar connection with the Vulcan whenever the subject was brought up. But then, T'Pol had the excuse of coming from a desert planet. No one expected her to paddle around on a lilo or jump headfirst from the diving board.

But he, Malcolm Reed, descendant from a long line of Navy men? Who'd grown up on the water? Of course everyone expected him to take to swimming like a fish to water, quite literally so. And he couldn't tell them why he dreaded the day the pool would be finished and he'd have to join the happy, half-naked crowd. It was bad enough that the Captain knew.

To be fair to Archer, he'd never mentioned the pool directly to Malcolm, or implied that Malcolm should use it. Since everyone else did, however, Archer's tactful silence didn't really make much of a difference.

"We've gotta draw up a schedule," Trip said. They were sitting at their usual table in the messhall, surrounded by the chatting dinner crowds. Travis and Hoshi had joined them, and so of course the conversation had turned to The Pool. Malcolm had spent the last ten minutes staring at his plate as if he'd never seen anything more fascinating than its arrangement of carrots, steak and chips.

"A schedule?" Travis asked. "You mean if someone wants to book the pool for private events?"

"No," Trip said, "I mean generally. The pool's fifteen by six meters, right?"

Hoshi and Travis nodded, and Malcolm quickly followed suit. Everyone aboard seemed to know the pool's every dimension by heart, and he didn't want it to look as if he didn't share their interest.

"Well," Trip continued, "that's okay for five or six people, but it's going to get crowded with ten or more. So what I'm saying is that we're gonna need a schedule so everyone gets their fair share of pool time."

Malcolm suppressed a thin smile; as far as he was concerned, anyone could have his "fair share" along with any extras to which senior officers might have a claim. Maybe he could trade it in for something else. Two months' worth of "pool time" for a bottle of fine scotch and a box of chocolate biscuits. If he drove a hard deal, he'd never run out of snacks again. The thought lifted his mood a little, before he remembered that Trip was planning on regular "laps" for the two of them and that he was a fixed part of the guest list for Travis' and Hoshi's pool parties.

All in all, it looked as if he was going to have to jump in at the deep end. And that, Malcolm thought grimly as he turned back to his steak, was an ironic expression if he'd ever heard one.

* * *

Admiral Forrest had kept his promise of sending the best people he could find. It took them less than a week to transform Cargo Bay 2 into a "pool with leisure area", complete with a palm tree donated by the Science Department. Malcolm had seen Ensigns Chang and McLear carry it down the corridor as reverently as if they were transporting a sacred relic.

Malcolm couldn't believe the fuss everyone was making, over a bloody pool of all things. You'd think they were building paradise down in Cargo Bay 2. Trip's engineers were falling over their feet in their eagerness to assist the construction workers, and the Chief Engineer himself had insisted on helping the day they set and sealed the tiles. The good news was that with everyone wanting to get assigned to the job, they hadn't enlisted his help. Malcolm still hadn't been down to Cargo Bay 2, and he wasn't particularly keen on seeing the construction crew's progress. The gym had been fine for five years, and he failed to see the need for any fanciful additions.

At that point, he usually noticed that his internal voice was beginning to sound like his father, and tried to think of something else. If the pool boosted morale aboard, it was probably a good thing. After everything they'd gone through, the crew deserved a treat, and he had to admit that it was a long time since he'd seen everyone in such high spirits.

Considering all that, his own concerns didn't seem very important, and he did his best to push them to the back of his mind. He'd survive making a token appearance or two, and after that, he was confident the novelty would soon die off and he could go back to pretending that Cargo Bay 2 held nothing more than a few containers with spare parts.

Of course, that token appearance would have to be made in a pair of swimming trunks printed with pineapples. Or even worse, tiny yellow submarines. He'd thought about getting himself a pair of plain black trunks when he went to the station to run some errands, but had reluctantly decided against it. Rejecting Trip's gift might seem unkind, and he didn't want to hurt the man's feelings.

After another particularly exhausting dinner conversation involving, among other things, squirt gun fights, Malcolm caught himself thinking that he could always call Harris for a little chat and see if he could get himself thrown in the brig again. You could say all you wanted about the brig, but it was nice and dry. Distinct lack of water fights, too.

That night, Malcolm took out Trip's swimming trunks and laid them out on his bed. The pineapples didn't look too bad, actually. He might not have gone for a bright green background himself, but it did make for a lively combination.

Pineapples or brig. That's what it seemed to come down to. Malcolm sighed and picked up the swimming trunks to put them away. Not much of a choice, if you thought about it.

* * *

Eventually, things turned out even worse than he had expected. Which didn't really come as a surprise; once the universe decided to introduce another swimming pool into his life, it usually went the full monty.

After the weekly staff meeting, Archer asked everyone to stay for another moment and announced that the construction crew had finished their work, and were just filling up the basin for the first time.

"I've taken the liberty of booking the pool for an hour and a half tonight." Archer smiled. "I'd like invite all of you to join me in a game of water polo."

Water polo. Malcolm had never in his wildest dreams – or nightmares, rather – expected that the occasion would arise when he had to participate in the Captain's favorite sport. He had watched a game or two with Trip, Travis and the Captain; something of a "boys' night in" complete with beer and pretzels. They'd also watched some obscure baseball game and the world championship football finals, which, unfortunately, England had lost. Malcolm hadn't even minded the water polo games then. A bit dull, granted, but it was something different and better than baseball, anyway.

Now, he'd have given anything to have been invited to join a game of baseball instead. Baseball at least took place on firm ground.

"I shall have to decline, Captain," T'Pol stated, and Archer nodded, smiling to let her know that no offense had been taken.

"Of course. You're welcome to watch, though."

He looked at Malcolm who suddenly felt extremely grateful, both for the chance of getting out of the game and for the Captain's discretion. He'd just opened his mouth to excuse himself when Travis spoke up.

"So we're playing three-on-three then?"

Trip clapped him on the shoulder. "You betcha, and this time you're not havin' Phlox on your team. The doctor's with me and Malcolm. Right, doc?"

Phlox smiled, obviously pleased. "Certainly, I shall be looking forward to it."

Malcolm wished he could have said the same. They couldn't very well split into teams if there was an uneven number of players, and if he dropped out now, he'd ruin the game for everyone. Which wasn't an option, even if the thought of playing a game that was a combination of swimming, diving and dunking each other under water filled him with dull dread.

He caught Archer's eyes for a moment, and quickly looked away again. He didn't want the Captain to think that he was asking to be let off the hook.

"This is going to be so much fun," Hoshi said, and Malcolm almost winced at the conviction in her voice. He for one couldn't see where the fun came into it, but it was obvious that his fellow officers could hardly wait to drown each other while grappling for the possession of a slippery rubber ball.

Put like that, it sounded almost obscene.

Malcolm sighed. One game. He could get through one game without making a fool of himself, and after that, he'd never have to enter Cargo Bay 2 again.

At least that was what he hoped.

TBC...

Well, it had to happen, right? Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Thanks for letting me know what you think! On to the final part...

* * *

Chapter 3

Entering the remodeled cargo bay for the first time, Malcolm had to admit that they'd done quite an impressive job. He hadn't thought about the details before, such as the fact that it was impossible to dig a hole into the deck; a problem the designers had solved by constructing an elevated area into which they'd set the pool.

Trip immediately bounded up the steps and turned around, waving for Malcolm to follow him. "You gotta look at this, Mal!"

Slowly, Malcolm followed him up the stairs, feeling as if someone had cranked up the gravity plating under his feet. In a way, the construction reminded him of the scaffolds they'd had during the French Revolution, only that there was a swimming pool rather than a guillotine waiting on top.

He mounted the last step and looked around. It was quite impressive indeed. They'd tiled the area around the pool and even part of the walls, and there was a nice arrangement of deckchairs and low tables at the back of the pool – the "leisure area", he assumed. Chang's palm tree stood in one corner next to a couple of curtained cubicles Malcolm expected were for changing.

Yes, quite nice. If one ignored the pool, that was. He hadn't expected it to be quite so... big.

Trip, in the meantime, had shed his jeans and t-shirt, revealing a pair of trunks printed with large yellow and orange flowers. He tossed his clothes unceremoniously onto one of the deckchairs and without further ado jumped into the water. He went under and Malcolm took an instinctive step towards the pool, the old panic twisting his stomach. Then, Trip's wet head broke through the surface and Malcolm relaxed slightly when he saw the wide grin on the Chief Engineer's face.

"Come on in!" Trip waved at him. "Water's great!"

Malcolm managed a weak smile back and began to make his way to the changing cubicles. He'd taken a shower before coming here, but hadn't thought of putting on his trunks when he got dressed. Maybe his subconscious had still nurtured the hope that he wouldn't have to wear them, after all.

He closed the curtain behind him and unfolded the small bundle he'd brought: towel, trunks, bottle of drinking water. Now all he needed was his courage.

It was ridiculous, that the mere sight of a water-filled basin should reduce him to this. He was no frightened six-year-old, and he'd passed his required swimming tests in training; he'd actually done quite well in them. In comparison, the prospect of treading water and tossing a ball back and forth wasn't so terrible. Was it?

The pineapple trunks fit perfectly, he noticed as he slipped into them. Maybe that was a good sign.

Taking a deep breath, he stepped out of the cubicle. Trip was doing laps around the pool and Malcolm watched, admiring the laid-back ease of Trip's strokes. The man was clearly in his element.

As if he'd realized that he had an audience, Trip raised his head and smiled, then swam over to where Malcolm was standing.

"Probably the last time in a while that I get the place to myself," he said and pulled himself onto the edge. "This is the single best idea Command had since they got rid of the anti-fraternization rules."

"I thought it was the Captain's idea."

"It was, but Forrest pushed it through." Trip plopped back into the pool, sloshing water over Malcolm's bare feet. "You coming in?"

"We should probably get everything ready," Malcolm said. That was why they'd come here earlier, to set up the goals Trip had quickly assembled out of two nets and several aluminium rods.

Trip indicated the two frames that were sitting in a corner by the stairs. "If you hold them, I can fix them from in here."

Malcolm nodded; he was fine with any plan that allowed him to stay on firm ground. The aluminium constructions came with two hooks that went over the edge of the pool, and all Trip had to do was to tighten a couple of screws to hold them in place. Malcolm wondered why the Chief Engineer had enlisted his help for this, then remembered that Trip had probably thought he was doing him a favor.

"How does it look?" Trip wanted to know after the second goal was fastened to the edge. Malcolm surveyed the scene. It looked like a pool with two aluminium frames attached to each end, but he knew that wasn't what Trip wanted to hear.

"Almost like the real thing," he said.

"Great," Trip smiled and dove under, swimming the length of pool under water before he emerged at the other end, dripping wet and grinning. "Come on in, we can still do a couple of laps before the others come."

Malcolm had just opened his mouth to excuse himself somehow – going to the bathroom came to mind, or maybe an emergency in the Armory – when the door opened and the Captain came in, followed by Travis, Hoshi and Phlox.

"Malcolm," Archer smiled at him as he climbed the stairs. "All ready to get started I see."

Malcolm was saved from answering by a strange noise from the foot of the stairs. He didn't recognize it immediately for what it was, and only when Archer turned around did he realize that it was Porthos producing the sound, growling in a way he'd never heard before.

Archer went back down the stairs, and Malcolm could hear him talking quietly to the dog. "Come on, boy, what's up? What's wrong? You afraid of something?"

To Malcolm, it seemed obvious that he was, and he wondered why Captain Archer had brought the dog here. Surely beagles couldn't be trained to play water polo, especially not Porthos; he knew for a fact that the Captain's dog didn't even play fetch. Personally, he'd always found that rather endearing; really, why should anyone want to run after a rubber ball?

Or dive after it. Cats would never do that kind of thing. Malcolm had always liked cats.

In the meantime, Archer had solved the problem by simply picking Porthos up and carrying him up the stairs. Porthos didn't seem too happy about it; he was still growling, a low, dangerous sound that turned into a loud bark once he came in sight of the pool.

"Fascinating," Phlox commented. "I had no idea canines were afraid of water."

"They're not," Archer said, with a rather confused look at his unhappy dog. "At least they shouldn't be... quiet, Porthos!"

Porthos let out another bark as if in defiance, then went back to his quiet growling of before. When Archer set him down on the tiles, Malcolm saw that the dog's tail was firmly tucked behind his hind legs.

Trip had climbed onto the edge of the pool where he sat, dripping wet and holding out a hand to the dog.

"C'mon, Port, what's up, buddy? What d'you say the two of us go for a swim?"

Porthos didn't seem at all enthusiastic at the suggestion. Usually he'd run to Trip, lick his hand and allow the engineer to ruffle the fur behind his ears, but now he only retreated further.

"Poor little guy," Hoshi said. She'd slipped out of her clothes, revealing a black, one-piece bathing suit beneath. "I don't think he wants to go for a swim, Trip."

"He's never behaved like this before." Archer frowned at the cowering dog. "I wonder what's wrong with him."

Malcolm thought that it was fairly obvious what was wrong with Porthos; growling and cowering didn't seem such an absurd reaction in the face of a huge and dangerous body of water that could easily swallow small beagles. Or Armory Officers.

He startled when someone clapped him on the back. "Nice trunks," Travis said, and Malcolm sighed inwardly.

"Thank you," he replied, aware that Trip was in hearing range and probably listening. "I like them too. Something different."

"Very different."

"Yes," Malcolm glowered at the helmsman, his back to the pool so Trip wouldn't see his expression. "Very."

Travis grinned but didn't press the subject.

"So, Captain, how do we proceed from here?"

Malcolm turned and was faced with the rather surreal sight of Phlox in a pair of bright green swimming trunks. The doctor looked if he couldn't wait to jump in and participate in yet another fascinating human sport.

"We split up into our teams," Archer indicated for Travis and Hoshi to move over to the far side of the pool. "We should probably do a few practice rounds before we play a real match, get the rules down and everything."

Malcolm watched Phlox climb down the ladder, surprised when the doctor gracefully slipped into the pool and began to part the water with strong strokes. The doctor didn't exactly look like the typical athletic swimmer, but he seemed to feel quite at home.

"Malcolm?" Trip asked. "You coming in?"

Malcolm couldn't think of any reason why he shouldn't, except that he didn't like the way the water sloshed against the edge of the pool, or the way it would close around his ankles as if it wanted to drag him down.

He started to walk towards the ladder. _Two and a half meters to the bottom_, he thought. _We got the shallow end, which means that it's only about 1,60_. His feet would just be able touch the tiled floor. He might still be required to tread water at some point, but he wouldn't... float. He hated the idea of floating. Even the word itself sounded unpleasant, like a viscous liquid filling his mouth.

The ladder looked sturdy enough, so that part shouldn't be too bad. He turned his back to the pool and kept his eyes firmly on the opposite wall, staring at the tiles as he slowly, slowly lowered his right foot and set it down on the first step that was under water. The water was cool, and if he didn't move, he could almost ignore that it was there. Almost.

Left foot. He noticed that he was gripping the ladder too hard and deliberately loosened his grip, forcing himself to concentrate on the wall tiles. They were pale blue, as was the floor and the pool itself. He began to count them, starting with the topmost row. It took him twenty tiles to get down another step. Now his knees were almost immersed, and he could feel the water moving, sloshing around.

"Mal, you okay?"

That was Trip. Suddenly Malcolm remembered that a lot of people thought it was great fun to grab someone and dunk them under. Clinging to the ladder, half-in and half out of the water, he probably presented the ideal target.

"Fine," he managed, and forced himself to climb down another step. It was easier with his eyes closed, he noticed. Then again, that way he couldn't distract himself by counting the tiles, and he needed to distract himself. If he didn't, he'd start wondering how the hell he was going to get through an entire game of water polo if he couldn't even climb into the pool, and that was the last thing he needed right now.

Back at Training Camp, he'd used to go through weapons schematics in his mind, adjusting the components and calculating trajectories. And, although he would never tell anyone, he'd usually had a glass of whisky or two before he joined the rest of the trainees at the pool. No one had ever noticed, and it had helped. Maybe he should have finished the bottle of scotch he had in his quarters before coming here.

This was ridiculous. He knew nothing was going to happen to him, and he knew that he could easily keep himself afloat once he let go. There was that word again. Malcolm gritted his teeth and let himself slip into the water, one hand still on the ladder.

He could do this. He could. He had passed a test, for God's sake.

Somehow, the first stroke he did carried him to the edge of the pool, and his hands reached out seemingly on their own. He couldn't seem to let go no matter what he told himself. It wasn't _safe_.

Trip appeared next to him, a concerned expression on his face.

"Malcolm, are you sure you're-"

An explosion of sound from the other end of the pool interrupted him. Malcolm turned his head and saw Porthos, a small bundle of fury, running back and forth next to the pool and barking like crazy. The Captain had joined Hoshi and Travis in the water, staring in disbelief at his snarling beagle.

"Porthos, stop it!"

The frenzied barking grew louder at the sound of Archer's voice. For a moment, it seemed as if Porthos would fling himself into the pool to save his master, but his heroism failed him at the last second and he backed off again, howling and barking even louder than before.

"Porthos!" Archer swam to the edge and began to climb out of the water. Porthos watched carefully until his master was finally standing on firm ground again. Only then did he come closer and tried to lick Archer's hand, his little tail wagging like a windshield wiper on high speed.

Hoshi laughed. "I don't think Porthos is going to let you back in, sir."

Archer crouched down next to his dog, trying to reassure the trembling animal. "I don't understand it. He's never been like this before."

"You never took him swimming before," Trip pointed out. "Looks like Porthos here has aquaphobia."

Somehow, the word registered with Malcolm in a way nothing else had, and he suddenly found that he could move again. It wasn't even that hard to let go of the edge and do the two strokes over to the ladder, and when his feet touched the steps, the cold panic in his stomach was almost gone.

He climbed out of the water, and sighed with relief when he felt the firm, smooth tiles under his feet.

"Sir, if you don't mind I could take Porthos for a walk."

Archer looked up at him. "Are you sure, Malcolm?"

Malcolm allowed himself a tiny smile that only Archer could see, relieved when he saw understanding on the Captain's face. "Quite sure, sir. I could ask Ensign Müller to stand in for me. From what I hear, he's quite a good handball player."

Archer nodded. "Okay then. I think Porthos could do with a little change of scenery."

Malcolm went over to the comm, trying very hard to keep the emerging grin off his face. He wasn't going to have to go back in. And even though Archer might suspect that he wasn't exactly disappointed, he hadn't embarrassed or made a fool of himself.

He punched the comm button. "Reed to Armory."

"Müller here."

"Just the man I was looking for," Malcolm smiled.

"Sir?"

"Would you by any chance be interested in joining a game of water polo, Ensign? If you're not too busy, that is."

"Really?" Müller sounded excited, Malcolm noted with relief. "Sir?"

"Really," Malcolm said. "We're all set to get started, but I'm afraid something's come up and I won't be able to play. I thought, since you're a handball player-"

"I'll be right there!" It was the first time ever that Müller had interrupted his superior. Malcolm could almost picture the man jumping up and down next to the comm, and wondered not for the first time why the prospect of fooling around in several hundred gallons of water had so many people trembling with ecstasy.

Not that he was complaining. "Thank you, Ensign."

"I'll go get my swimming trunks!" Müller signed off, and Malcolm turned around to Archer.

"I believe Ensign Müller's happy to stand in for me."

"Well then," Archer bent down and picked Porthos up, "I'll guess I'll see you two later."

It was a good thing that Chef still owed him a favor, Malcolm thought as he went over to the changing cubicles. He needed cheese, and he needed a lot of it. As far as he was concerned, Porthos had never deserved it more than he had today.

* * *

Malcolm settled back on his bunk and reached for the book on his nightstand. He'd borrowed it from Hoshi a few days ago; a thriller about a desert kidnapping which mostly revolved around the hostages' long march through dry and hot terrain. After today, the idea seemed rather appealing.

There was a soft snore from the foot of the bed, and Malcolm lowered his padd, smiling at the sight. Porthos had fallen asleep, his long ears flopping over his eyes. The empty plate next to him was sparkling clean, not a single crumb left. Malcolm had discovered that Porthos had quite the distinguished taste when it came to cheese, and preferred Blue Stilton over everything else.

He turned back to his padd and had just found the passage where he'd left off when the door signal chimed.

"Come in," he called, and quickly laid the padd aside. It was probably Archer who had come for Porthos. He should've hidden the plate, he thought as he got up. After all, Porthos wasn't officially allowed to have cheese, even if it had only been a few slices.

When he saw who his visitor was, Malcolm smiled, relieved. Trip's hair was still slightly damp and he had a towel slung across his shoulder as if he'd come straight from the pool. He probably had, Malcolm realized, even though it was almost three hours ago that he'd left Cargo Bay 2 with Porthos in tow.

"Hey Mal." Trip grinned when he saw the sleeping beagle. "Looks like you two are havin' a good time."

"We are, actually." Malcolm sat back down on his bed, indicating for Trip to take a seat on the sofa. "So, who won?"

Trip sat down and rubbed the back of his neck. "Jon's team won the first game, but then Bernhard wanted a re-match and our team won. Then Jon wanted to play again and we got a tie, so he and Bernhard decided to play one-on-one with Travis and me as goalies."

Malcolm blinked. "Who won?"

"Jon, but it was close. Bernhard's got a mean left throw."

"I'm sure the Captain appreciated his efforts."

Trip grinned tiredly. "Jon's ecstatic. The two of them are sitting in the messhall right now and discussing who to pick for their team."

"A water polo team?" Malcolm hoped with all his heart that Müller wouldn't feel obligated to suggest his superior as a possible addition.

"Yep. They're gonna practice twice a week from now on."

"You're not going to play then?" Malcolm asked. He'd noticed that Trip had said "they" rather than "we".

Trip shook his head. "Naw, don't think so. Water polo's fun once in a while, but generally I'd rather do laps. I'm not into team sports all that much. Besides..." He grinned a little. "I don't think I'll make it onto their list, anyway."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. "No?"

Trip shook his head. "Not after I let in that last-minute goal. I think Bernhard wanted to dunk me under."

Malcolm grinned at the mental image. "He wouldn't dunk a superior officer."

"Oh, I don't know. The man's a maniac in the pool, almost as bad as Jon."

"Then I suppose it was a good thing he stood in for me."

"Yeah." Trip gave him a long look, then, "You didn't seem too disappointed that you didn't get a chance to play."

Malcolm sighed. He'd known when he'd left the cargo bay that Trip had noticed, even if no one else had. Well, it would've been difficult _not_ to notice, with him clinging to the pool's edge like that.

"No," he admitted. "I wasn't."

"Oh."

"I have aquaphobia," Malcolm said, and it wasn't nearly as hard as he'd imagined. He smiled a little. "Just like Porthos, it seems."

Trip nodded slowly. "So why d'you agree to play?"

"I didn't exactly want to bring it up in front of everybody," Malcolm said, avoiding Trip's eyes as he reached out to pet the sleeping dog. "Besides, we needed an even number of players for the teams."

_Besides, I thought I could do it_. He was still slightly ashamed of the way he'd panicked, holding on to the ladder for dear life.

"I'd appreciate it if we could keep this between the two of us."

Trip nodded. "I'm not gonna tell anyone, if that's what you want. I don't think it's anything to be ashamed of, though."

Malcolm shrugged. "I suppose not."

"So what happened?"

Malcolm looked back at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what made you so afraid of water?"

"Nothing," Malcolm shook his head. "I didn't almost drown as a child, or anything like that. I've just always been afraid of water. I don't know why."

Trip nodded again and then rubbed his hand across his nose, the way he always did when he was embarrassed. "Sorry I rambled on about the pool like that. Must've gotten on your nerves after a while."

It had, but Malcolm wasn't going to say so. He smiled. "It's fine."

And it was, he realized. Maybe it could have been fine from the very beginning, if he hadn't been so blockheaded and had just told them.

Porthos sighed in his sleep and turned onto his back, and Malcolm obligingly began to scratch the dog's tummy. There had been a time when he hadn't approved of having pets aboard, but that was long ago. Pets did no harm, and if you thought about it, pools didn't either. Not really.

A low sound came from the sofa, and Malcolm glanced up again. Trip's head was drooping onto his chest, and the towel had slipped out of his hands as he snored softly. Obviously, three hours of water polo had taken their toll.

Malcolm got up and spread a blanket over the sleeping man before he settled back down on the bed with his book, at ease with himself and the world. He began to read while Trip and Porthos slept, their soft snoring filling the otherwise quiet room.

FIN

A piece of cheese for everyone who leaves a review :)!


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